


Not Everything

by collapsethelightintoearth



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blowjobs, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Established Relationship, Gentleness, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Past Brainwashing, Past Rape/Non-con, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collapsethelightintoearth/pseuds/collapsethelightintoearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hydra has taken more of Bucky than he knows. When he goes on his knees in front of Steve during their first sexual encounter since the 40's— not because he wants to, but because it's what he's been trained to do and he can't remember sex as being anything but humiliating and painful— Steve is horrified. He shows Bucky what sex <i>should</i> be like, and Bucky learns that maybe Hydra hasn't taken <i>everything</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: This story deals with the [non-graphic] past rape/brainwashing of Bucky Barnes during his time as the Winter Soldier.

It is many months after dragging Steve to shore that Bucky remembers who he is, and several more before he stops running from himself. His memories come back one at a time, often without warning, but he slowly begins to put the fragments together, piece by piece.

 

—

 

Bucky hates that he can’t remember much of their relationship. At least, not at first. He sometimes gets brief flashes of furtive glances, and kisses exchanged in the privacy of their apartment. He remembers joy and sorrow in equal measures: shy smiles shared during their first unofficial date; holding Steve’s hand as the other man coughed violently during a particularly terrifying bout of sickness. That’s as far as it gets, though. Blushing, Steve told him that they had sex— before— but Bucky can’t remember, no matter how hard he tries.

The only sexual experiences he knows have infiltrated his dreams for years, turning them to nightmares. There is so much he doesn’t remember, and so Bucky tells himself that sex is supposed to be— has to be— like that for him. After all, he knows nothing but pain in relation to any form of physical closeness. It is difficult enough as it is to restrain himself from flinching when Steve hugs him, or drapes an arm around his shoulders.

The hardest part about _getting better_ is that sometimes he’s not sure if it will ever be enough.

 

—

 

The thing is, Bucky _wants_ to make Steve feel good. And if that requires him to undergo the same pain and humiliation that Hydra put him through, then so be it. He has a feeling that Steve wouldn’t make it terrible, and he knows that he’s endured worse during his time as the Winter Soldier.

 

—

 

One night, Steve pushes Bucky suddenly up against the doorframe and kisses him, slow and deep, one hand tangling in Bucky’s hair. Bucky tenses, and after several moments, Steve pulls away, concerned. As Steve opens his mouth to speak, Bucky, having already made his choice, sinks to his knees in a graceful and well-practiced motion. He is already undoing Steve’s fly before Steve breaks the silence.

 

“Bucky? What are you doing?” There’s a strange note to his voice, so Bucky pauses and looks up. Steve’s eyes are wide, his expression stricken.

 

Bucky smiles in a way he hopes comes across as natural, but judging by the look on Steve’s face, fails miserably. He closes his mouth, then opens it again.

 

“I want to make you feel good,” is what leaves Bucky’s mouth. He fidgets slightly from his position on the ground, anxious to get back to what he was doing, to get back to what was _familiar_ , if not remotely pleasurable. Again, he tells himself, _Steve is worth it. You can do this._ He’s so used to sex being something that requires total physical obedience, though his mind would always recoil in fear and shame. Of course, to _them_ , he might as well not had a mind at all. Steve, at least, treats him like a person. More than that, even— almost as though he is worth the monsters. 

 

Something must have shown on his face— Steve can still read him so well, seventy years later— because Steve’s expression becomes distinctly horrified. He runs a hand through his hair, then says, “Please get off the ground Bucky,” in a tone that sounds close to tears. Bucky rises slowly, and looks Steve in the eye. Steve meets his gaze, then looks upward for a few seconds, blinking rapidly. He takes a deep breath, then says, “They hurt you, didn’t they?” At Bucky’s nonplussed look, he adds, “Sexually. They hurt you sexually.”

 

Bucky looks downward, something like shame burning hot and painful in his gut.  

 

Steve flinches violently, as if in realization. He says flatly, “You don’t— you don’t want this. You were doing that because you felt you had to. Because that’s what they made you do.” It isn’t a question.

  
“I want to make you feel good,” Bucky repeats, frustrated. “It doesn’t matter about me. I can endure it.”

 

Steve makes a pained sound. He is quiet for a long moment. Then, “I can’t believe you think I would— sex shouldn’t be something you have to _endure_ , Buck. It should be something that feels _good_. For— for _everyone_ involved.”

 

“Well, it’s not like that for me.” Bucky looks deeply uncomfortable, and Steve suddenly realizes—

 

“You think you deserve that, don’t you?” There is true horror in Steve’s voice now.

 

Bucky’s glare dissolves at those words, and he ducks his head, his whole frame seeming to collapse on itself. His voice, when he finally speaks, is stilted and barely audible.

 

“I’m— I’m not supposed to feel good. They said— I’m the asset. I’m supposed to be used. I’m just there— for _that_ at least, to make _them_ feel good. I’m just a thing to be filled up.” When Bucky finally looks up, he is surprised to see several tears streaming down Steve’s face.

 

“Okay, we’re not doing this. At least not if you’re not going to like it.” Steve pauses. “But if you ever, you know, start feeling differently, you can always come to me. Because you deserve to feel...good. You deserve pleasure.” He reaches out to hug Bucky, then stops, visibly refraining from touching him. Instead, Steve lightly pats him on the shoulder. It is only when Steve is out of the room that Bucky realizes he had been leaning into Steve’s hand for the brief second it was on him.

 

—

 

Bucky spends the next few weeks mourning the loss of Steve’s touch. Sure, Steve is just as friendly and affectionate as before. He just doesn’t touch Bucky. At all. Bucky feels the absence with a surprising level of intensity. He thinks about Steve’s words more often than not. It slowly starts to dawn on him that maybe, just _maybe_ , this doesn’t have to be painful, doesn’t have to be something dirty, based on shame and fear. Maybe Hydra was _wrong_. With this realization comes a sense of peace, and it’s like a crushing weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

 

It’s a month later that Bucky finally is ready. He enters Steve’s room in their apartment, wringing his hands in nervousness. Steve looks up and smiles, bright like a sunrise, as usual.

  

Bucky starts speaking quickly, before he loses his nerve. “I want— that is, if that’s okay—”

 

Steve just _looks_ at him for a minute or so, before nodding and saying, also anxiously, “Um— okay.” Then, “When?”

 

“Now’s a good a time as any.” Bucky tries not to betray his nervousness.

 

Surprised, Steve approaches him slowly. When their bodies are a hair’s breadth away, Steve leans down and kisses him. Bucky relaxes slightly. _They_ never kissed him. They used his mouth in other ways, but not like this. This is safe. The kiss is soft for a few seconds, until Steve’s tongue swipes across his lower lip. Bucky instinctively opens his mouth, _almost_ hating himself for the reflex, but Steve presses inside, slowly. His hand slides through Bucky’s hair before gently tugging his head back.

 

Steve backs Bucky up against the wall slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away if he wanted.

 

He doesn’t, though.

 

Bucky makes a soft sound in the back of his throat when Steve’s mouth presses against his jaw. Steve dips his head down to brush his lips against Bucky’s pulse point, before trailing kisses back up his neck. Bucky starts slightly at Steve’s murmured voice in his ear.

 

“If you want to stop anytime, Bucky, just say so. I only want this if you want it too.”

 

Bucky looks up at Steve’s open, earnest face and says, “Okay.” He surprises himself by meaning it.

 

Steve grins at him then, wide and bright— _just like old times_ — and leans down to kiss him again. Bucky remembers this, at least, and puts as much effort back into it as he possibly can. They eventually break for air, and Steve returns his attention to Bucky’s neck, this time scraping teeth lightly along skin. While Steve places more open-mouthed kisses down to his collarbone, Bucky realizes with some degree of shock that he’s hard. It’s been so long since he was _allowed_ to be aroused— let alone _able_ to be so, that the feeling hits him low in the gut, leaving him dizzy and warm. He’s suddenly fiercely grateful that it is Steve doing this to him.

 

Because he _loves_ Steve. Has for longer than he can currently remember. And he trusts Steve too, with more than just his life.

 

Pushing aside the implications of those truths for now, Bucky rests his head against the wall and lets himself _feel._

 

He’s so caught up in trying to be in the moment that he almost doesn’t hear Steve.

 

“Um, we should— I mean— Do you want to go to my room?” Steve has backed away slightly, but is still turned towards Bucky.

 

Bucky nods, almost shyly, and says, “Yeah, Steve. That sounds good.”

 

—

 

Steve presses him down on the bed. “This okay?” He asks carefully.

 

Bucky nods again. Pauses. Then— “I’ll tell you if it gets to be too much.”

 

Steve smiles, and it lights up Bucky's world. 

 

—

 

Steve slowly makes his way down Bucky’s body. He swirls his tongue around a nipple, then scrapes his teeth over it. Bucky is mostly quiet, letting out the occasional small noise. It’s different now— Bucky used to be fairly loud in bed, regardless of who topped or what they did. Steve reckons the people who hurt Bucky probably punished him for making noise, and he has a sinking feeling that the only reason Bucky is making any noise at all _now_ is because he’s probably used to hiding sounds of pain, and these are sounds of pleasure. Steve can barely bring himself to think about how long it must have been since Bucky last experienced _any_ physical contact that was kind.

 

But he continues downward, still determined to give Bucky as much pleasure as possible. Steve looks up when he reaches Bucky’s navel. Announces, “Bucky.” Bucky looks down at him warily.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I just. Don’t hold back. You can make noise, you know. Or put your hands in my hair. If you want.”

 

Steve sees the confused glint in Bucky’s gaze spark at the second half of his statement. Before Bucky has time to process what Steve means by, “ _put your hands in my hair_ “, Steve is unzipping his pants and pulling Bucky’s cock out. Something inside Bucky must snap as he sees what Steve intends to do, because he begins to shake his head aggressively.

  
“Steve. Don’t. I— I don’t want to _use_ you.” Bucky’s expression is stricken.

 

“Bucky.” Steve starts out softly, looking up. “I am doing this because it will be amazing for the both of us.”

 

Bucky looks disbelieving.

  
“I mean it, Buck.” Steve runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He gets up abruptly and straddles Bucky’s waist. He knows the moment Bucky feels his erection, sees Bucky’s eyes widen and hears his sharp intake of breath. “ _I want this._ ”

 

Steve can tell Bucky’s shocked by his arousal, so he looks him straight in the eye and murmurs gently, “I used to love doing this for you. I mean, I loved it when you did it for me, too, but...I _love_ you, Buck. I love you and I love making you happy. And I _do_ like the act itself, too.”

 

“But—” Steve can almost see the gears turning in Bucky’s head.

 

Steve looks away for a moment. “There are people in this world that are beyond terrible, that are _evil_. And some of them got a hold of you and along the way they turned something that should be beautiful into something painful and terrifying for you. And I am so, so sorry.”

  
“It’s _not_ your fault Steve. It never was.” For the first time that night, Bucky sounds utterly resolute. He looks down at himself, at where his arousal has faded, and falters. “I still. I mean. We could try again.”

 

There is no lie to be found in Bucky’s steady gaze, so Steve nods once.

 

He kisses Bucky for a while, until Bucky is fully hard again, and then some more, until Bucky’s moaning into Steve’s mouth.

 

This time, when Steve slides down Bucky’s body, Bucky lets out a shaky exhale but looks firm. Decisive.

 

His body jerks forward slightly when Steve curls a warm hand around his cock. When Steve presses his lips against the head, Bucky lets out a small noise from the back of his throat. Steve takes that as permission to continue, and lets Bucky’s cock slide into his mouth. He relaxes completely and feels the tip press up against the back of his throat. Steve looks up and catches Bucky’s gaze. The other man looks between guilt and pleasure. So Steve reaches down, quickly undoes his trousers, and takes himself in one hand. Bucky’s cock is still in his mouth as he begins to stroke himself.

 

“Steve—” Bucky begins, then stops himself. With his free hand, Steve gestures to his head, and knows Bucky remembers his offhand comment from earlier. “ _Put your hands in my hair._ ” He shudders, but it appears to be out of pleasure this time. Bucky carefully slides his fingers into Steve’s hair, gripping, but not pulling. Steve pulls his mouth off Bucky’s cock to swirl his tongue around the head, before taking it back in. He swipes his thumb over his own cock, already slick with precum, and moans around Bucky’s length. Bucky lets out a broken whimper at that, and Steve rubs gentle, reassuring circles onto his inner thigh.  

 

“Steve— I’m going to—” Bucky tries to pull away, no doubt remembering the abuse inflicted upon him by Hydra.  

 

Steve holds Bucky in place with a hand against his chest. It’s really more of a suggestion than anything else; Bucky could easily push it away. But he just settles against the headboard and looks down at Steve. They make eye contact, and a few moments later, Bucky is coming, a low, keening sound escaping his throat. He tries to pull back again, but Steve continues to hold him in place. He coaxes Bucky through the aftershocks, lips still wrapped firmly around Bucky’s cock. He slowly slides his mouth off of it when Bucky’s breathing begins to slow.

 

He locks eyes with Bucky, and after a few stuttered strokes, Steve is coming into his hand.

 

After they both have caught their breath, Steve scoots up on the bed and smiles at Bucky, slow and shy and beautiful. Bucky smiles back and opens his mouth to speak. “Thank y—”

 

“Don’t thank me.” Steve’s voice is firm. “Don’t. You deserve to know what pleasure feels like.”

 

Bucky doesn’t answer— at least not in words. The way he kisses Steve, careful, almost reverent, says it all.

 

—

 

Hydra had taken a lot from him, Bucky knows. But _not everything_. And this? This is _his_.

 

 

 

_End._

 

 

 


End file.
